


Venezia (Behind the door: day 3)

by DoctorBilly



Series: Behind the door: Advent calendar2014 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 3 of my Advent Calendar for 2014. Prompts are from locations behind the <a href="http://www.safestyle-windows.co.uk/secret-door/index.html">Secret Door</a></p><p>Set a few months after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2003376">"La Serenissima"</a>, and before the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/144900">"Chimæra"</a> series begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venezia (Behind the door: day 3)

**Author's Note:**

> If the image is not visible on your device, you can see it [here](http://doctor-billy.tumblr.com/post/104232470048/behind-the-door-day-3-venice-todays-story)

There is snow. He hadn't expected snow. A few inches only, but enough to make everything white, even the gloss black of the moored gondolas has disappeared.

He slips and slides his way across the piazza to Florian, but it is too early. He gives up on the hot chocolate he had planned to buy and heads for the back streets and thick, strong coffee, drunk standing at the counter of a small bar.

Last time he'd been here he had been with someone who loved him. This time he is alone.

The city is quiet, melancholy. It will brighten up later, and there will be more people about. The lights on the bridges will twinkle and the Christmas trees in the campi will sparkle. He crosses the canal on the traghetto, standing up all the way, like the venetians. On the other side he wanders through the slowly-growing crowd, buying a bottle of grappa, some winter fruit. He doesn't have time to get a boat out to the islands today, but there are shops selling Murano glassware everywhere. He will be able to get what he wants.

He walks back over the Rialto bridge, dodging the crowds, and makes his way back along the fondamenta to the piazza. Florian will be open now.

He sits at an outside table, drinking his hot chocolate, not minding the odd flake of snow that finds its way into his cup.

"Bill? It _is_ you."

Billy jumps as the voice hails him. He looks up into the smiling face of Filippo Pedrolli, Greg Lestrade's friend.

"Maggiore. Hello."

"Filippo, please Bill. How are you? You look thin…"

Billy laughs.

"You said that last time I was here. How are you, Filippo?"

Filippo smiles.

"I am well. Are you here alone, Bill?"

"Yeah. I was in Mestre, and I thought I'd come for a flying visit before I go home. My flight leaves at eight tonight. I've got to get a boat back to the bus station soon."

Filippo sits down at Billy's table. A waiter brings him coffee without being asked.

"A pity you cannot stay longer. You see how beautiful La Serenissima is at Christmas?"

"Yeah. That's why I came. It is lovely. Better with company though."

"Si. Like most things." He finishes his coffee and stands up. " I must work, I am afraid. But it was good to see you, Bill. Arrivederci."

"Arrivederci, Filippo."

Billy is a bit wary of kissing a fully-armed-and-uniformed carabinieri, but Filippo doesn't care at all. He grabs Billy by both shoulders and kisses him soundly on both cheeks.

 

*********

 

Billy steps back and smiles.

The tree looks lovely. He has chosen a small one, only four feet tall, and not too bushy. It stands on a low table and still manages to brush the ceiling of the boat.

He has dressed it sparsely with strings of glass beads, recycled from old jewellery he has found in junk shops, strung on fishing line. There are one or two antique mercury-glass ornaments and a few old tin stars dotted here and there.

He crosses to the kitchen table and starts to unwrap the parcel he had carried back, carefully, from Venice. He is interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the familiar footsteps of someone who doesn't need to wait to be let in.

"Hello." Lestrade walks up behind him and nuzzles the back of his neck. "You didn't tell me you were going to Venice. I would have met you there…"

"Filippo called you."

"Yeah. I have my spies everywhere."

Billy laughs

"I was only there for about four hours. I was in Mestre, at a conference, and I cut the last morning to go across the causeway. I bought these."

He finishes unwrapping the box, revealing a dozen perfect, transparent glass balls, in shades of sea-glass colours, blues, aquas, mauves.

"Help me finish off the tree?"

Lestrade smiles.

"You never could resist a bit of glass."

They hang the balls carefully on the tree, and Billy switches on the lights, tiny, warm-white LEDs, invisible until lit. They make the glass glitter and sparkle.

"You haven't got a fairy for the top, Bill."

"Fairies are naff, Greg. My tree is _classy_."

Lestrade chuckles.

"Yeah. At least you've got some colours this year. You could have a star on top…"

"Looks better without one." Billy smiles with satisfaction. "I bought a bottle of grappa. It's in the fridge."

Lestrade gets it and pours for both of them, and they toast each other in the twinkling light of the tree.

"Happy Christmas, Greg."

"Happy Christmas, Billy."


End file.
